Repetition
by Woe is Wendy
Summary: This feeling was uncomfortably…familiar? Yes, it was so hauntingly familiar, it was suffocating. Yet, Arthur could not figure out what made this journey home on a horse-drawn carriage through the streets of 19th century London feel so repetitive. SpUK, Spamano, rated for adult themes, but it's not PWP
1. Part 1: Recognition

**Part 1: Recognition**

This feeling was uncomfortably…familiar? Yes, it was so hauntingly familiar, it was suffocating. Yet, twenty-four year old Arthur could not put his finger on it. He turned his head to the right and gazed out at the 19th century London street as the carriage moved along, shaking and rattling as they rode over the uneven, bumpy road. It was 2pm on a Saturday afternoon. Ominously dark clouds were just beginning to gather and loom over the city, solemn harbingers of rain. He saw two large, grey rats scurry across the road, and a mild feeling of disgust passed over his features. Along with that disgust came a sense of familiarity. Why did this feel so familiar?

"…Arthur? Is something wrong?"

He looked to his left, where Antonio, who was two years older than himself, sat beside him. Gentle, loving green eyes stared at the blond man.

"I have the most peculiar feeling. It's almost as if I've…experienced this before? There's a word for it. De….I can't recall. That feeling, you can only say it in French…" Arthur looked at the floor of the carriage, brows furrowed as he struggled to remember.

"Déjà vu?" The Spaniard offered.

"Ah, yes!" The Briton's eyes lit up. "I'm not sure why, but it's as if this has happened before."

Antonio laughed. "What, riding a carriage through London? Maybe it's familiar because you've been here before? It _is _your hometown, after all."

They were on their way to Arthur's small apartment, which Antonio had moved into about two years ago, located on the outskirts of London. Just about twenty minutes ago, they had disembarked from the S.S. Danielle, which had arrived at the Port of London after a long journey from Spain, Antonio's motherland. They had travelled to Spain following the news of unprecedented family issues which Antonio had to attend to. Arthur, not quite willing to part with his lover, had followed him. Now, family problems and the like settled, they were heading home.

"No…I mean…" Arthur paused, he looked out the carriage window again. "Well…I'm not sure, really…" An elderly woman was entering a bakery, apron strings tied in a messy ribbon at the small of her back. He recognized her as the shopkeeper, and wondered when was the last time he had patronized her store.

Antonio leaned over and pecked his cheek. "Don't imagine things."

Arthur sighed. He was probably tired, probably over-thinking things. He let his eyes continue wandering, and allowed his mind to do some wandering of its own.

_(Arthur! Are you alright?) _

Arthur heard a voice, it sounded like Antonio's.

"Yes, I'm alright."

"Hm?" The Spaniard looked at him again, one eyebrow rose quizzically.

"You asked me if I was alright…?"

"I didn't say anything, mi amor."

He looked out the window, and saw a young boy in dark grey trousers and a navy blue vest running into a general store. Arthur thought he seemed familiar.

_(Wh…what on Earth was that? You're not hurt, are you?)_

Arthur heard the voice again. This time, he was absolutely certain it sounded like Antonio's. He was unsure if he should be worried or puzzled, and if he should promptly admit himself to the nearest asylum for the odd things his mind was doing to him.

(_The impact was great! At least you're okay…)_

What was this, a memory?

_(Al-…Alfred? You felt that too, didn't you? What happened!)_

What? Who was that? As far as he knew, he did not know a single Alfred in his whole life.

Running his hand through messy blond hair, he closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. He was so very confused.

With a shake of his head, his eyes opened again, and he looked out. They rode past a grim looking orphanage, where he saw a young blond girl sitting in the yard, holding a rag doll to her chest, looking worriedly at the darkening sky. For some strange reason, Arthur thought he had seen her before. However, his thoughts were cut short when a shrill cry reverberated through the air. They passed the Asylum, where a young woman with a messy bun of black hair, dirt streaked face and filthy clothing was screaming bloody murder behind the wrought iron gates. Her long fingers wrapped tightly round the metallic rods, shaking it violently, making the locks and chains clank loudly, as if startled by the rough treatment they were suddenly subjected to. Two nurses were rapidly approaching from behind, rushing out from the forlorn building that was the asylum to the gates. In a flash, they had restrained her. They began dragging her back to the waiting asylum.

"WHAT SACRILIGE! WHAT INJUSTICE! YOU'LL SUFFER FOR THIS I SWEAR! I SWEAR!" She hollered, thrashing her head about.

Arthur froze. He had heard those words before, but with greater intensity. This time, he could remember where he had heard it from….

Two years ago…


	2. Part 2: Manipulation

**Part 2: Manipulation**

"_Arthur! Arthur, let me in! God damn, you'll suffer for this, I swear! I swear!" The furious yelling was accompanied by a loud pounding at the door, making Arthur jump. He looked up from his desk. His eyes went to the door of his unit, then to the clock. It was midnight._

"_Arthur! I know you're in there!" _

"…_Lovino?" Arthur called hesitantly. He got up from his chair and walked to the door, wondering what brought his Italian neighbor to his apartment so urgently, though he had a bad feeling that he knew the reason. He unlocked the door with unsteady hands, and came face-to-face with a fuming brunette. His eyes (they seemed red and puffy…had he been crying?) bore angrily into the pale, blond man. The pungent scent of alcohol hit the Briton._

"…_are you drunk, Lovino?" Arthur asked, though he thought the answer was rather obvious. "I'll bring you back to your apartment, Antonio should be there…" At this, Lovino's expression darkened considerably, if it was even possible._

"_Oh, you'd know, wouldn't you? You'd know when Antonio is around, but I'm not. You shameless bastard…" Lovino stepped forward, making Arthur move back. The Italian closed the door behind him._

"_You're drunk. And don't go about using such vulgarities, it's rather unbecoming."_

"_Oh, and sleeping around with my lover is becoming? Sneaking into your neighbor's apartment to screw around with his love cum roommate is gentlemanly, Arthur?" The brunette spat hatefully, his voice rising. Arthur paled._

_When Lovino and Antonio had arrived from their respective countries about eight months ago, both had been in need of affordable accommodation, for they had both journeyed to this foreign land for business purposes. It was their good fortune that led them to find each other, a fellow expat willing to go halves on an apartment. Thus, they had shared the apartment, and so, shared the cost as well. It was not long before love blossomed between the two. None of the other tenants knew of their relationship but Arthur, whom they had come to like and trust as not only a neighbor but as a friend. _

_However, he had become more than friends with Antonio in secrecy, through flirtatious whispers, laughs and touches, they had become bedfellows behind Lovino's back. He had been in the dark._

_Or at least, he _had_ been in the dark for three months._

"_I…I.."_

"_I, I, what! Can't think of any more lies?"_

"_Lovino…what makes you think that Antonio and I-"_

"_Last week, I found short blond hair and a black shirt button that greatly resembled the ones on a shirt I saw you wear once. I found stains, too. On MY. FUCKING. BEDSHEETS." He yelled, moving towards Arthur again, making him back against the wall like a trapped animal. "Oh, that's not all, you cheap fucker. I suspected it, but wanted to make sure. Oh, sure as hell, this morning I spied Antonio knocking on your door, and you opening it, eyes ablaze like some nymphomaniac, greeting him with a passionate kiss before dragging him in and bolting the door. And when I came back this evening, I found marks on him that he couldn't explain. That dirty bastard." Anger seemed to be dissipating from his voice, replaced by pain from the great betrayal. 'Why did I fall in love with him…"_

"…_So you've broken up with him?" Arthur asked quietly._

"_You wish! That'd be like admitting defeat, you whore! You think after being together for a year, I'd just give him up so easily!" Lovino punched the wall next to Arthur's head, making him cringe. "I didn't say anything to him after questioning him, I just went out, and cried a lot. A damn hella lot. I then thought, why am I wasting my tears on you fuckers? So I'm here to confront you. After I'm done with you, I'll confront him. Knowing him, he'll beg for forgiveness, and after he proves himself, we'd can live happily together again, forever after." _

"_What makes you think he'll ask you to forgive him?' Arthur suddenly challenged, head pounding, heart pounding, feeling thrilled, feeling sick. "What makes you think he still wants you? You can't be all that desirable, Lovino, if he's been seeing me for the last few months."_

_WHACK! Lovino backhanded him, leaving a nasty red mark, and a great stinging pain, on Arthur's cheek._

"_Why would he want a harlot like you?" Lovino asked maliciously. Arthur's heart felt like it was being squeezed painfully when he heard that word. He felt a mix of anger and shame wash over him in waves. "If he really loved you, why didn't he just end things with me to be with you, why did I continue being in the forefront, while you were but a mere shadow, something to be kept secret, something unsaid, something to be ashamed of? It's because he loves me too much, while you're just a free fuck session." Lovino was drunk, but he meant every word he said. Arthur felt hurt. But he also felt wronged._

"_He can't love you that much if he cheated on you." Arthur retorted, though his voice was beginning to waiver. Tears were starting to gather in his emerald eyes, making them glisten in the dim light. _

_A loud thud filled the room when Lovino grabbed a fistful of his golden hair and pulled his head forward, before banging it against the wall with incredible force. He did this three times. Arthur saw stars._

"_He's only infatuated with you, because you lured him into your trap. You should really hear some of the things people say about you, Arthur. Someone told me this isn't the first time you're the third party in someone's relationship, apparently, you've ended many relationships and broken too many hearts to count." Arthur's eyes widened. "You're a fucking expert in seduction, aren't you? I didn't believe them. I thought, Arthur is such a pleasant, well-mannered gentleman, and such a trustworthy friend and neighbor, those people must be spreading rumors. They probably have some grudge against you. Oh, how wrong was I." Lovino laughed. It was a mirthless, cruel laugh. _

"_Stop…" Arthur looked to the floor, letting tears roll down his face._

"_You filthy whore. Son of a bitch, I ought to be crying, not you! Haha! Look at you, the sinister villain, ruiner of love, in such a pitiful state, playing the victim. You're fucking despicable, you fucking harlot." Lovino roughly grabbed his chin and forced his head up, allowing him to examine the man's face. Allowing him to admire the damage he had done, both physical and emotional._

"_STOP!" He yelled loudly. With that, he shoved Lovino away. He chuckled._

"_I thought I'd be beating you to a pulp by now, but I didn't expect you to break so easily." He giggled again, and turned around, starting to move towards the door. "Seeing you like this is revenge enough. I have to go back to Antonio now, he must be worried sick about me." He reached for the doorknob. "Goodbye, Arthur. You fucking whore."_

_Something inside the blond man snapped. With a cry, he ran to Lovi and tackled him. They started throwing punches and kicks, with the Italian receiving most of the damage, his mild drunkenness giving him a slight disadvantage. Lovino felt the small of his back bump into the window grille. Unfortunately, one of Arthur's kicks sent him teetering backwards. His arms pin-wheeled wildly as he fell backwards and out of the open window, plunging three stories down and breaking his neck…_

* * *

A/N: Hello there. Forgot to add this to chapter 1. xD

I own nothing. More disclaimers at the end of the story due to the minute possibility of spoilers. This will be an estimated 9 chapters in total, will try to upload 2 chapters per week! :D


	3. Part 3: Asphyxiation

**Part 3: Asphyxiation**

Each time he recalled the incident, he wondered if he was blessed or cursed. He was lucky that the police had bought his story on Lovino tumbling out of the window on his own when he had misjudged the direction when attempting to attack him in his drunken state. He was lucky that Antonio bought the story too, and till this day, two years later, had no idea that Lovino had found out about their affair, and assumed he had gotten drunk due to work-related troubles, and had decided to take his anger out on Arthur. He was lucky that with Lovino out of the way, Arthur had Antonio to himself, and the Spaniard had decided to permanently reside in England to spend the rest of his life with him. An English freelance writer and a Spanish business man posted to London, earning just enough to make ends meet, yet believing that they were enjoying their happily ever after.

On the other hand, he was unlucky because he earned himself a lifetime of guilt and nightmares which intruded upon his slumber like unwelcomed visitors. Images of that dark, dark night would flash through his head, the whole incident casting a shadow on his life. He was unlucky because despite the fact that he had Antonio now, he believed that Lovino was probably right when he said that Antonio loved him more. The weeks following Lovino's death, the Spaniard was a lot more aggressive and passionate when making love to Arthur, who knew that it was not out of love for him, but rather out of sorrow and frustration at the loss of his beloved Lovi. In bed, he had called Lovino's name out more than once with a furious growl, eyes squeezed shut, nails digging into Arthur's pale hips hard enough to draw blood, before collapsing upon Arthur, exhausted. Arthur remembered how he had panted softly as he stared at the ceiling with the weight of the brunette upon him, feeling guilty, feeling broken, feeling used, feeling nothing at all. It would seem like an eternity before the brunette would pull out of him and roll to his side, facing the other direction, his back to the blond. He would stare at the bare, toned, sweat covered back as it jerked slightly each time Antonio let out a weak sob. In his head, Arthur would replay the times Antonio forcefully he had thrust himself into Arthur, not seeming to care about the other's pain. Arthur actually pondered the possibility of him actually knowing that it was Arthur's doing, and was intentionally hurting him. Even two years later, though Antonio was back to his usual self, Arthur occasionally thought he heard the man mutter a soft "Lovi…" as he laid beside him in slumber. Arthur wondered what kind of surreal, dreamlike paradise Antonio entered each time he dreamt of Lovi. A bright, warm wonderland which Arthur knew he would never see nor be a part of.

But despite all that, Antonio did care for and loved Arthur, even if his former lover was not quite able to leave his thoughts entirely, paying absolutely no heed to the saying "Till death do us part".

As they rode past a small church, the sight of a middle aged man in the courtyard with a rolled up newspaper under his arm struck him as familiar. It interrupted his reminiscence, but only briefly.

When Lovino accused him of being the catalyst in the ending of numerous relationships, he was not that far from speaking the truth. After a harsh breakup with his beloved fiancée, a seemingly sweet and lovable lady he met in university, who had been turned out to be unfaithful to him, his world fell apart. He was never really able to fall in love again (if he had ever felt love in the first place), and on top of that, he began having affairs. Some of them were married, some of them single. Some of them women, most of them men. The bitter and broken man found comfort, power and dominance in the process. None of his secret, adulterous relationships lasted for over six months.

Antonio was different.

With all the others, he never genuinely feel for them. Or at least, he felt nothing more than infatuation or physical attraction, on top of the unstated desire to cause heartbreak to someone else, almost as a sacrifice to calm his own tormented heart. But with Antonio, he was finally able to smile again. This was the closest he was going to get to finding love. His heart was mended.

At Lovino's expense.

"Arthur, smile! We're going home! You look so glum." Antonio poked Arthur's arm, offering him a slightly tired smile. Arthur smiled back.

_(Alfred? Why aren't we moving?)_

His smile faded.

_(Alfred! What…you mean…)_

The god damned

_(we have to)_

voices

_(…evacuate immediately!)_

would not stop.

Memories. They MUST have been memories. Why else would they be so clear? And it sounded just like Antonio's voice. He had heard his lover's voice whispering sweet nothings in his ear, conversing with his business associates over the phone, chatter cheerily to his friends and family; he could recognize it anywhere, anytime.

"Toni?"

"Yes, mi amor?"

"Do you happen to know anyone named Alfred?" Emerald eyes fixed on the tanned man's face as he searched through his memory banks.

"No, I'm afraid I don't." Antonio finally answered.

"Are you absolutely certain?"

"Yes, I am. Why? Should I know him? Who is he?" Antonia asked, curious.

"Well…nothing, actually, I just thought...you knew someone by that name."

Their strange conversation was interrupted by a loud clap of thunder, before the first droplets of rain fell from the sky.

_(Arthur, quick, come with me! We'll follow Alfred!)_

"You're strange today, Arthur." The Spaniard commented with a yawn before sliding closer to Arthur, and hugged his thin arm, resting his head on his shoulder. Arthur sighed and begun stroking Antonio's hair absent-mindedly, but affectionately.

_(The door won't budge! Ah, Alfred! The pipe!)_

Arthur stiffened. Something was wrong.

_(Dios mio.)_

His hand stopped mid-stroke amidst Antonio's hair. His left shoulder, where Antonio's head rested felt…damp? He removed his hand from the chestnut hair, and brought lower. It gently held Antonio's chin.

_(The water's rushing in!)_

"…Toni…?"

_(Alfred, the water's rising!)_

He lifted Antonio's head upwards to face him. He gazed in horror at Antonio's face.

_(ARTHUR!)_

The dampness he felt on his shoulder turned out to be Antonio's blood. It trickled from both his closed eyes, from his nostrils, and from the corners of his mouth. With a terrified shriek, he pushed the man away, before using both hands to grab his face.

"Antonio? Antonio! What's wrong? Where does it hurt? Speak to me!"

He received no response from the seemingly lifeless, limp body.

Suddenly, something burst through the roof of the carriage and fell into the seat opposite Arthur. It was a short, broad section of a metallic pipe. The hole it punctured into the roof was about 30cm in diameter. From that hole, cold rainwater started pouring into the carriage at alarming speed.

"Ah…" Arthur let go of Antonio to grab his chest. His lungs felt like they were being compressed. "Ack!" He felt the sudden sensation that he was suffocating. He thrashed about, and fell into the water, which was already about eighty centimeters high. He felt water rush into his lungs, his head felt like it was going to explode.

_(Oh God! Oh God! Alfred!)_

Some claimed that the dying saw their lives flash before their eyes in the final moments. What Arthur saw was not his whole life, but a short episode of it, in which he had taken his fiancée to the theatre to watch a performance of Shakespeare's Hamlet. He recalled how the character Ophelia had died. Her death had occurred offstage, but the audience had been informed of her death when it was being reported to her brother by the Queen. She had fallen into the stream and drowned, laughing and singing in her madness, until the cold waters silenced her song, and she began descending into her watery grave. After the performance, Arthur had remarked that he felt that it would have been much more interesting and dramatic if they had deviated from Shakespeare's original writing, in which her death happened offstage, and made the actress actually perform the drowning onstage, instead of leaving her cruel death to the audience's imagination. His fiancée had laughed and called him silly.

Well, he had a pretty good idea of what Ophelia must have experienced now. Though, his sanity was not eroded sufficiently that he was enjoying it as much as Ophelia.

_(No! No no no no!)_

The water was still rapidly rising. He felt himself beginning to float. Antonio's corpse was being submerged, but was starting to float as the water rose.

So, this is how it ends.

_( Arthur…)_

He continued thrashing, but his pulse was weakening, his movements were slowed, his eyelids were moving south.

_(I love you.)_

His struggling ceas-

* * *

A/N: Not meaning to be anti-climax, but writing horror (or at least, _attempting _to write it) is so fun! 8D It helps me escape real-life horrors, like the mofo-ing science practical assessment I'll have to sit for soon ;A; I mean, doing science is fun, but not when I get _examined_ for it! It really puts the 'ass' in 'assessment', hurhur xD /shot for lameness


	4. Part 4: Premonition

A/N: If you haven't been able to tell, they're not national personifications in this fic, but mere mortal humans like you and I. Well, 'cept for the fact that they're in the 19th century and all. Just wanted to make sure you knew, in case I didn't make it clear. ^_^ Oh, and apologies for any spelling/grammatical errors in previous chapters.

* * *

**Part 4: Premonition**

Arthur gasped as he opened his bright green eyes and sat up. His breathing was erratic, and his body was covered in sweat. His thin frame was trembling. Looking around the room he realized that was on one of the two bunk beds in the tiny cabin onboard the S.S. Danielle. He was the only soul in the confined space. He looked to the left, where a porthole revealed glistening blue sea as the magnificent ship moved, bound for the Port of London. From the position of the sun in the sky, it was about noon or later. As he let his thudding heart calm down, he realized that it was but the fierce vexation of dreams, and remembered where he was and why he was there.

He and Antonio were returning to the somewhat shabby but cosy apartment, the same one from which Lovino had fallen from two years ago, which was their home. They had spent three weeks in Spain while Antonio had to attend to family matters. If Arthur had had a more demanding job instead of a freelance writer, he probably would have been forced to remain in England for his work.

Eventually, the Englishman got out of the small bed and started getting dressed. Why hadn't Antonio woken him up?

"Hola~~~!" Speak of the devil. Said Spaniard burst into the cabin cheerily. He closed the door before embracing the now dressed Arthur in a tight hug before he let go and smiled brightly at him. "We're docking soon, Arthur!"

"Oh, okay." He replied tiredly. The Spaniard's smile faded as he examined the listless face of the other man.

"What's wrong?"

"I just didn't sleep very well, is all," the blond gave him a small, sheepish smile. "I just had a nightmare."

"A nightmare? Did you dream that you set the kitchen on fire again, Arthur?" The man joked, attempting to cheer him up. Indeed, Arthur chuckled lightly.

"It only happened once! And it was a very small fire anyway. We managed to extinguish it in under ten minutes, didn't we?" Antonio replied with a grin, which was executed in a manner so adorable that Arthur had to resist the urge to pinch his cheeks.

"Well, if it wasn't that, then what did you dream about?" Antonio asked. Arthur looked out the porthole as he thought.

"Hm…funny thing is, I don't think I can remember…"

"If you've forgotten it already, then it wasn't such a traumatic dream after all, was it?"

"Not exactly, it shook me up quite badly. That much I remember."

"I can tell, you don't look so good," Antonio gently placed his hands on each side of his face, tilting it upwards to look at him. "…but I can make you feel better!" He kissed him lightly, and the blond responded enthusiastically, forgetting his dream entirely. It escaped his thoughts like a thief, "swift as a shadow, short as any dream".

About an hour later, they had disembarked from the ship, and were about to board a horse-drawn carriage. A man with a brief case approached them.

"Excuse me, would you be so kind as to direct me to the seaport? I think I'm lost, sirs," he asked with an Italian accent. Arthur's breath hitched. Though his brown hair was a lighter shade, as were his irises, the man bore a resemblance to Lovino. He even had a curl sticking out from his hair, like an ostracised, out-of-place anti-socialite who refused to mingle with the rest of his head of hair. For a moment, he thought the man had returned from the grave for revenge, before his rational mind dismissed the thought as absurd.

"Um…sorry…you don't speak English?" The man asked politely. He was quite confused at the two men's rather dumbfounded expressions. That was when Arthur noticed that Antonio seemed a bit stunned as well.

"It's that way," Arthur said quickly, pointing in the direction. "About a three minute walk, there are several signs along the way, sir. Just follow the path." For some reason, he felt like getting rid of the man, the sooner the better.

The Italian man nodded and thanked them before heading in the direction Arthur had pointed out to him. Arthur saw Antonio's mouth move, as if he was about to say something, to call out to the man and ask him something. But he only sighed and boarded the carriage wordlessly.

Arthur followed, silent as well.

As they began to move, Arthur stared out of the window, thinking bitterly, _He must be thinking of him again. He must be missing him again, his beloved Lovi. He's the only thing on his mind right now. I'm never enough for him. I'm his second option._

He considered the possibility of the man being related to Lovino. It was not impossible. He looked like he was around Lovino's age; perhaps a brother?

Or not. Maybe all Italians just looked the same to him.

Arthur turned to look at Antonio, who was silently staring out the window, olive green eyes deep and reflective. Arthur frowned, and looked out the window again. He saw two grotesque looking rats scurry across the road. His eyes widened. Why did they look so…familiar?

He looked up at the sky, where dark clouds were beginning to gather. Somehow, he had expected it. He frowned in worry.

"Arthur, are you alright?" He looked to his left, where Antonio was looking concerned, smiling gently. It was a forced smile, Arthur could tell.

"It's nothing…I just felt like…that sensation, I forgot what it's called."

"What do you mean?"

"The feeling you get when you've experienced something before. You can only say it in French." Arthur explained. They passed a bakery, where the elderly shopkeeper was just about to enter the shop. Her apron was tied in a highly untidy fashion, as was her hair, which was in a messy bun upon her head.

"Déjà vu, you mean" Antonio asked.

"Ah, yes." Arthur said. "This feels so familiar…but I don't remember..."

_ (Arthur! Are you alright? Wh…what on Earth was that? You're not hurt, are you?)_

"Did you say something, Antonio?"

"No. Why?"

A young boy, clad in a blue vest and grey trousers, rushed into a candy store.

"Nothing…" Arthur trailed off. Why was he hearing Antonio's voice in his head, so vivid and clear that he had thought that Antonio had actually said something?

_(Alfred! What happened?)_

He did not know anyone named Alfred. Did Antonio?

"Love, do you know any Alfred's?" He asked. Antonio processed his question.

"No. Who's Alfred?"

The sight of a blond girl holding a rag doll to her chest in the yard of the orphanage they just passed also struck him as familiar.

"I thought…I don't know. I guess I'm tired is all." He laughed lightly in an attempt to hide his worry. Antonio pecked his cheek.

"Don't imagine things, mi amor."

Arthur jerked his head toward the window when he heard a scream from the asylum, and the sight and words of a madwoman at the gate made him recall the night he accidentally murdered Lovino.

_(Alfred? Why aren't we moving?)_

He closed his eyes and massaged his temples. Why did he have such a strong sense of déjà vu?

_(Alfred! What…you mean, we have to evacuate immediately!?)_

A strong wave of dread washed over him as they passed a church with a middle aged man standing in the courtyard, newspaper under his arm. He was smoking a pipe, which Arthur found strange, for some reason. He thought he remembered seeing the man before.

A loud clap of thunder resonated through the air. Droplets of rain began falling from the sky.

"Antonio, I have a bad feeling."

_(Arthur, quick, come with me! We'll follow Alfred!)_

The voice in his head carried the same panic and trepidation as a conductor whose freight train was headed straight off a plunging cliff.

"You're strange today, Arthur." The Spaniard commented with a yawn before sliding closer to Arthur, and hugged his thin arm, resting his head on his shoulder. The sudden close proximity and warmth managed to calm Arthur a bit. But only a bit.

He sighed worriedly and begun stroking Antonio's hair.

_(The door won't budge! Ah, Alfred! The pipe!...Dios mio.)_

Why wouldn't the voices stop? Wait…why did his shoulder feel wet?

_ (The water's rushing in!)_

He screamed as he saw the blood flowing from Antonio's face. He had never experienced such a strong sense of fear. What intensified the horror was that he had somehow _expected _it, as though he knew it would happen. However, he did not know why it felt so familiar. He did not know why the sense of déjà vu was so overpowering.

_(Alfred!)_

A pipe about thirty centimeters long and fifteen centimeters in diameter penetrated the roof and fell upon the seat in front of Arthur. He grabbed his throat as he felt sudden breathlessness. He sunk to the floor, his head dipping below the steadily rising water, thinking of Ophelia, thinking of his ex-fiancee, thinking of-


	5. Part 5: Revelation

**Part 5: Revelation**

He awoke with a scream.

As he shuddered and shook, he looked around and realized that he was in a small cabin onboard the S.S. Danielle. He saw Antonio at the foot of his bed, looking at him with wide, worried eyes, a half-eaten apple in his hand. Despite his efforts to control himself, to let his sense of reality readjust as the remnants of dream-born fear drained from his veins, he continued trembling, panting, gripping onto the blanket with fists clenched so tight that his knuckles went white with fright.

"Arthur?" The Spaniard dropped the fruit and moved closer to the Briton, placing firm hands upon delicate, shaking shoulders. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

But he could not answer. He had no words to explain what just happened to him. In fact, the memory of it was already beginning to fade away, as the shadows of dreams usually do. The perturbation and raw fear had yet to dissipate, though. As a result, he made no attempt to articulate his emotions, but simply looked down at his shaking blanket-covered body as he attempted to calm down. Antonio sat on the bed, hugged him, and held him tight. The pale man's chin rested upon the Spaniard's shoulder. He closed his eyes and told himself to just _breathe._

Eventually, he did calm down. Antonio slowly released him.

"…Arthur?"

"Nightmare," he answered simply. Antonio brushed a lock of blond hair away from his forehead before slowly trailing his fingertips down, from the top of the perspiration-covered forehead to his chin, to his neck, to his chest, where his heart still thudded urgently.

"What about, mi amor?"

Now, that was the question of the century, wasn't it? For the life of him, he just could not-

_(Al-)_

….remember?

_(-fred)_

"I…don't think I remember." He said flatly, placing his own hand over Antonio's. Now both of their hands rested on the Brit's chest, the tanned hand sandwiched between the fair hand and cotton covered chest.

"Maybe it's for the better, isn't it?" Antonio smiled gently. Arthur smiled back.

Minutes passed before Antonio got up and retrieved his abandoned apple upon noticing it. He inspected it before biting into it, and offered it to the Brit, who shook his head and muttered a 'no thank you, love'.

"Not hungry?"

"Not yet, anyway…" The Brit replied, slightly dazed from the dream. His memory circuits must have been driven to overkill, because his mind seemed to have been wiped clean of all remnants of the nightmare. He flipped the blanket to the side and got up; he went to his luggage to rummage for clothes to change into. Antonio's eyes suddenly lit up.

"Oh yeah, before I forget, we're docking quite soon, perhaps within the next hour or so. Let's go to the deck to admire the sea one last time!" Antonio suggested merrily. Arthur nodded.

"Why not?"

Ten minutes later, they exited their cabin. They walked the corridor along their floor in silence. But upon reaching the foot of the stairs leading to the upper level, Arthur noticed something familiar looking.

"Antonio…that section of pipe looks peculiar."

It was about fifteen centimeters in diameter, and ran along the ceiling from one end of the corridor before it disappeared round the corner of the other end. The section in question was a segment of said pipe about thirty centimeters in length, which looked slightly out of place.

"Oh…I heard that the repairmen did a shoddy job of fixing the pipe, but don't worry, once we dock, they're going to fix it. The makeshift section of pipe will be replaced with a proper one; a cabin boy told me so!"

"Does it pose any danger?"

"He claimed that it's fine, as long as it doesn't receive an abnormally large amount of pressure or anything, it should hold!" He answered.

Arthur felt slightly uneasy.

After disembarking from the ship about an hour later, Arthur and Antonio where boarding a carriage. As he sat down and shut the door, Arthur caught sight of a well-dressed man some twenty meters away. He had briefcase and a curl sticking out of his brown hair. He was looking left and right, looking somewhat confused, as though he were lost. The man seemed awfully familiar. Arthur raised an eyebrow as he tried to think.

But the carriage moved along, and the rain clouds gathered.

This experience was giving him a strong sense of…what was that word?

"Something the matter?"

"I thought I saw someone I recognized, love. And I have the most peculiar feeling that I've experienced this before. There's a word to describe it. A French word, I believe, though I can't remember." He saw two grotesque rats scurry across the road as the carriage moved along the bumpy street.

"Déjà vu, Arthur?"

"Ah. yes!"

_(Alfred Alfred Alfred Alfred)_

What the hell? Why was he hearing a voice in his head?

_(The pipe!)_

And _Antonio's_ voice, for that matter! That name…Alfred, was it? Where had he heard it before? He saw the shopkeeper enter the bakery, apron strings, hair in a bun and all.

"Hey, Antonio?"

"Yes, mi amor?" He asked.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Alfred?"

"Alfred? Err, not really." The Spaniard replied. But after a moment, he said, "Well, except for the cabin boy on the S.S. Danielle, the one who told me about the pipe."

_(Cabin boy.)_

Upon picking up that small bit of seemingly insignificant information, something clicked in Arthur's mind…

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**A/N: **

**Dun dun dun! *dramatic music***

**Might be a while before the next part, because I want to try uploading the next few chapters together at one go for better fluidity~**

**Anyway, this fic is ultra fun to write xD But in addition to that, I'd like to know whether you're having as much fun reading this as I am having fun writing it. Thus, whether or not you're enjoying this fic, it'd be super magically spectacular to me if you could leave a review! ^^ Right now I'm judging the readership and interest by the page views on the story stats, but I'm not sure of the proportion of people actually reading this, people who click on the page and get bored upon reading the first paragraph, and people who are just browsing through. And it'd be good to know if your response is largely negative or positive. It'd be helpful even if it were "BAD FIC IS BAAAD" or a "8D". So yeah, R&R-ing is valued and will not go unappreciated :D**


	6. Part 6: Recollection

**A/N: Ack! Life got in the way. This is quite overdue, and it looks I can't upload the next few chapters at one go. D: This coming week is busy for me, so I'll hopefully upload the next part next weekend. Sorry! (Sorry Sorry Sorry Sorry Naega naega naega munjuh /shot.) Please accept this chapter as a peace offering~!**

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"Hey, Antonio?"

"Yes, mi amor?" He asked.

"Do you know anyone by the name of Alfred?"

"Alfred? Err, not really." The Spaniard replied. But after a moment, he said, "Well, except for the cabin boy on the S.S. Danielle, the one who told me about the pipe."

Upon picking up that small bit of seemingly insignificant information, something clicked in Arthur's mind…

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**Part 6: Recollection**

_Arthur and Antonio were lounging in their cabin aboard the passenger ship, feeling quite sated from dinner. It had been a rather enjoyable meal, other than the fact that he spotted two rats scurry from the kitchen to the nearby dining hall exit in a flash, something which no one else seemed to have noticed. Arthur reported it to one of the kitchen's attendants as they walked past. She was a rather old woman who wore an apron and a messy bun, very much like the shopkeeper of a bakery Arthur patronized from time to time. She had politely told him that she would inform her colleagues of the sighting of rats, and hoped that he would remain at ease and enjoy the rest of the evening. _

_Currently, Arthur was reading a book on his bunk bed, his back to the wall, feet dangling from the edge of the bed, while Antonio sat beside him on the bed cross-legged, staring out the porthole. Between the front cover and the first page of the novel currently held open in Arthur's elegant fingers, rested a white bookmark. Though, its creator did not craft it with the intention of having it fulfill the role of a bookmark. It had the neat compact size and firmness of a business card. On it, written in black ink with practiced penmanship, were lines from a sonnet: _

**Then if he thrive and I be cast away,**

**The worst was this, my love was my decay.**

_It was from Sonnet LXXX, to be precise. Arthur had written it upon the neat little card one night in the dull yellow light of his desk lamp when the unexplainable urge to see his lover seized him. He could not do so, of course, for the man's rightful partner would be home and might even answer the door if Arthur was to show up at their doorstep. No, it wasn't Antonio, for this was about a year before Antonio and Lovino had moved in, though the gentleman he was seeing in secret was also living in the same building. What Shakespeare meant (or at least, what Arthur supposed he meant) when he had written these lines was this: if his love rival should emerge victorious, while the he himself was to fall, the worst aspect of his destruction was that his love was the cause of his ruin. Arthur thought it quite fitting, for some reason. Images of the man he loved, laughing and teasing his blushing partner while Arthur sat in the corner, came to mind. _

_Arthur had slipped the love note (…or was it more of an anti-love note…?) into the man's pocket the next day, when they passed each other along the hallway. The man had thought it deviously charming. Arthur thought that his own torment was romantic._

_About two months later, three weeks after their bitter break-up and the loving pair had moved away, Arthur found the card in his letterbox. God knows why he hadn't set in on fire and thrown it away then and there._

_Perhaps, at the back of his mind, he thought, "Oh, how romantic."_

_And it had lain forgotten, like Sleeping Beauty, within a drawer of Arthur's writing desk. Arthur was never one to be picky about his bookmarks, thus he absently grabbed it one day, forgetting the painful memories it beheld, and inserted it neatly within the crisp pages of his book, leading to the present situation. _

_On the bed beside Arthur, Antonio was humming to himself, feeling rather bored. He turned to the younger man._

"_You've always got your head in a book…" He remarked._

"_Shush, it's getting good." Arthur replied._

"_More good than me~~~?" Antonio crooned as he leaned closer. Arthur paid him no heed. Antonio showed no signs of annoyance, but his grin morphed from one of childishness to deviousness. _

"_Oh, ignore me, will you?" He said slyly. "But I know how to get your attention~"_

_Arthur opened his mouth to voice his irritation. "What do you mean-"_

_Antonio grabbed his collar roughly and gave a harsh tug. Their lips clashed. Arthur initially protested, squirming and whimpering weakly. But the stroking of his chest by the Spaniard's hand, which had somehow found its way under the man's shirt, had him moaning into the kiss, book still in hand. _

_Eventually, Antonio pulled away, only to latch his teeth into the tender neck of the fairer man, whose breath hitched. The Spaniard smirked as he began sucking on the sensitive skin._

"_Aaah…but…Toni…ah!…it's…the...a-a-ah!... climax." The blond gasped. The thought of Lovino swiftly crossed his mind, and he briefly wondered if he pleasured the Italian the same way, using these same tactics._

"_Oh, don't worry." Antonio purred, pulling the book out of Arthur's hand and tossing it to his own bed. "You'll get your climax, Ar-"_

_CRASH! The sound of a loud boom reverberated through the air. The ship suddenly stopped, throwing both men off the bed in a tangle of limbs._

"_Arthur! Are you alright?" The older man asked, alarmed. All lust was gone from his voice. The desire got knocked out of him during the crash._

"_Yes, I'm alright." He replied as he sat up and rubbed the back of his head._

"_Wh…what on Earth was that? You're not hurt, are you?" The Spaniard was standing now._

"_Didn't I tell you I'm fine, love?" Arthur slowly got to his feet._

"_The impact was great! At least you're okay…"_

"Alfred was… a cabin boy, you say?" Arthur asked, feeling slightly dizzy. He had seen it so vividly, it had to be a memory. He had to have experience it before. What he just saw must have been a flash back. But why was it so challenging to remember? Why was the memory so…foggy?

"Yes!" Antonio chirped. "A cabin boy stationed at our level on board the ship! He was a rather tall, young teenager with blond hair and sky blue eyes. He may have had American origins, going by his accent…"

There was another spark in the circuitry of Arthur's brain…


	7. Part 7: Trepidation

**Part 7: Trepidation**

"_What was that?" The Englishman wondered aloud. "Why did we suddenly stop?"_

"_That's what I'd like to find out."_

_They heard a dull cracking sound coming from the lower deck. The planks vibrated beneath their feet._

"_What on Earth…?" The tanned twenty-six year old was too bewildered to finish his question._

"_I have a bad feeling about this…" Arthur mumbled nervously. _

_There was another huge jolt as the ship seemed to jerk forward suddenly by about half a meter. The two men stumbled, almost losing their balance._

_They heard screams coming from the corridor, accompanied by the loud stomps of running feet as a group of people rushed past their door. They stared at each other, wide-eyed._

_The door flew open. _

_The youth standing at the door of their cabin was quite well-built. He had sandy blond hair and sky blue eye. Under normal circumstances, those eyes sparkled like sapphire. This time, though, they were alight with fear._

"_Al-…Alfred?" The Spaniard began. "You felt that too, didn't you? What happened!?"_

"_Pardon? Alfred?" Arthur asked, confused._

"_Cabin boy," Antonio stated simply, before turning back to the tall teen. "Alfred? Why aren't we moving?" _

_The ship jerked again. This time, it tilted slightly to the left, causing the whole ship to lean at a slight angle._

"_There's no time to explain! Leave, now! Get to the life boats!"_

"_What? Alfred…you mean…we have to…evacuate immediately!?" Panic rose in the tanned brunette's voice._

"_We've hit something, she's going down!" He hollered over the rising screams of passengers rushing down the corridor. The crew members were knocking on every door to get the passengers to leave immediately. Soon, the screams were fading down the long corridor, and they were the only souls left at the end of their floor. _

"_Come! There's no time!" The American yelled before dashing away._

Arthur's head pounded and pounded. He massaged his temples and took deep breaths.

"Arthur…?"

"I'm…fine…" He said.

Looking out the window of the carriage, he saw a boy in a navy blue sweater vest and dark grey pants dashing into a pharmacy.

Arthur widened his eyes…

"_Arthur, quick, come with me! We'll follow Alfred!"_

_The Briton's hand was grabbed, and he was soon dragged down the corridor, which was slightly tilted, making the task of running to keep up with the brunette significantly more challenging. Up ahead, about eight meters away, they saw Alfred's back as he ran about another five meters behind the other passengers. Just ahead of him was a young boy, lagging slightly behind an older looking girl who was perhaps his sister. His simple yet smart navy blue sweater vest and dark grey pants reminded Arthur of the clothing he used to don as a schooling boy._

_Without warning, there was a loud creek as the S.S. Danielle moved downwards by about a meter, knocking the men off their feet once more. Screams escaped ladies' and children's throats up ahead as they toppled to the ground like fallen soldiers._

_Several crates from the upper floor suddenly came crashing down right in front of the two men, isolating Antonio and Arthur from the rest of the escaping passengers, blocking their path._

"_Fuck!" Antonio hissed, pulling himself up again. Arthur stood up as well, and gazed dazedly at the obstruction. Antonio began pushing at some of the crates, attempting to clear the way,_

"_Keep going! Keep going! Don't look back until you reach the lifeboats!" They heard the muffled orders from Alfred to the other passengers, before they heard the sound of his running feet getting closer to them._

"_Is anyone there!?" Alfred cried to the wall of crates._

"_Yes! Two of us! Antonio and I!" Arthur replied from the other side._

"_Don't worry! We'll remove the crates one-by-one. We can do it together!" _

_They got to work._

They rode past the pharmacy as Antonio continued staring at Arthur, a worried expression etched on his face. The younger was looking very pale indeed.

A few moments later, the carriage was riding past a dilapidated orphanage, where a lone girl stood in the courtyard, hugging a rag doll to her chest.

Arthur gulped and squeezed his eyes shut as the onslaught of the memory flooded his senses once again…

_Water had started to fill the hallway from some unknown source while their attention was on the crates. It covered their ankles now, and with the rising of water, came the rising of their anxiety._

_As they panted and pulled, the door to a cabin just a meter behind Alfred opened. The cabin boy stopped and turned his head. A little blond girl appeared at the doorway, looking nervously at Alfred._

"_Sir…help me…" She called out._

"_Excuse me real quick, I see a young lady who needs help!" Alfred yelled through a small crack through the wall of crates. "Okay!" Antonio yelled in reply. _

"_What is it, miss?" Alfred approached her. As Antonio continued struggling to move the crates, Arthur looked through the opening and saw the girl's messy but pretty blond hair, baby blue colored nightgown and bedroom slippers. A worn-looking rag doll was grasped tightly in her hands._

"_My mummy and papa," She began. "We were sleeping, then the ship shook, then someone was knocking on our door and shouting, but it was locked and I was scared to open it." Her voice was trembling slightly. "I heard running and screaming outside, then we jerked again, and suddenly boxes fell into our room. Some boxes fell on my mummy and papa, and now they won't wake up. Help me wake them up."_

_Though he could not look into the room from his angle, Arthur could see Alfred's face go pale as his eyes fell upon the sight in the girl's cabin. Then, he turned to the little girl and stared at her for a second or two, before seeming to snap out of his daze and scoop her up._

"_What…!?" She squeaked in alarm._

"_You need to get off the ship! It's sinking!"_

"_But…mummy and papa!"_

"_They will come later! You'll have to go first, but you'll meet them again later." Alfred lied to her, the panic making his voice louder than necessary. "Antonio! I need to bring her to the lifeboats! I'll be back!" With those words, Arthur saw the teen rush down the corridor and disappear as he turned round a corner._

"_Noooo!" The girl's agonized wail of protest echoed down the corridor._

_Arthur had the sickening feeling that, as young and naïve the girl appeared to be, she somehow knew that she would not be seeing her parents again._

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**A/N: Thank you for reading. Till next time~**


	8. Part 8: Hesitation

A/N: The traffic stats thingy (which I find totally cool! :D) says chapter 7 has more views than chapter 6, for some strange reason! Should be the other way round, by right! So check to make sure you didn't accidentally skip chapter 6~

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**Part 8: Hesitation**

_Their knees were submerged now, but they had managed to remove enough crates to create an opening large enough for an adult to squeeze through. In order to get through, they had to carefully climb a few crates and orientate their bodies in an ideal position before moving through._

_Antonio went first. A few seconds after his body slipped through, Arthur heard a thud and splash, followed by a gurgling sound._

"_Toni?"_

_He heard him splashing about in the water. A wave of panic ran through his nerves as he climbed the crates. Having a slightly smaller frame, he slipped through more easily than Antonio. Once on the other side, he carefully jumped down and landed with a splash. He reached down and pulled Antonio so he sat up in the water. The Brit's eyes widened at the sight of blood running down Antonio's nose and mouth._

"_Toni!" Arthur cried._

"_Gracias, Arthur." He replied weakly. "I slipped and got hurt. My hand got caught in something under the water. It's free now, I'm fine." He smiled, revealing blood stained teeth. Arthur pulled him to a standing position and hugged him, trying not to cry. Antonio just stood there dumbly. The blond briefly wondered, if he were being hugged by Lovino instead, would Antonio hug him back?_

"_Guys!"_

_They heard Alfred's voice as he came round the corner. The blond released his hold on the brunette. _

"_You came back!" Antonio cheered._

"_Of course! We need to get-"_

_There was a loud creek as the ship tilted even more. The water seemed to be rising at an even faster rate now. _

"_Come!" The American waved his hand and waded-ran through the now meter high water. The two followed suit._

_Going through the corridor, which only seemed to be getting narrower and narrower still (or perhaps it was merely Arthur's imagination going wild, due to the rising water and heightened sense of claustrophobia), they heard the rattling sound of a metal. It was then that Arthur noticed that further up the corridor, the row of cabin doors was interrupted by a menacing, locked, black metal gate._

_This gate led to a straight corridor which was at right angles to the one they were currently passing through. Looking down the stretch of corridor they were currently in, one would not have noticed that along the line of cabins lay this passage. However, it would not have been possible to turn and walk down that corridor, for the locked black metal gate stood firm between the two corridors at all times. Only authorized personnel were allowed to enter the locked corridor._

_Arthur's eyes widened._

_A young woman with a messy bun of black hair, dirt streaked face and filthy clothing was behind the gates. Her long fingers wrapped tightly round the metallic rods, shaking it violently, making the gate rattle and clank. It was useless, though, for the stubborn gate stood its ground._

"_You again!" She screeched when she noticed Alfred. "Let me out! Let me out!"_

_Unbeknownst to the three of them, the maiden had been a stowaway. After having been caught, she was kept as a sort of prisoner in one of the storerooms in the corridor beyond the locked gate, and was supposed to have been brought to the police by crew members after having docked in England. Before the crash, she had been the only person in the locked area while the crew went about their duties. Amidst the chaos, the few crew members who knew of the stowaway had completely forgotten about her, unknowingly leaving her to drown like a trapped sewer rat._

"_Alfred, the water's rising! Let her out!" Antonio said._

"_I can't! I don't have the key to this gate!"_

"_We have to break it down!" Arthur said._

"_You think I haven't tried? Why do you think I took so long to come back after bringing the girl to the lifeboats?"_

_The ship jerked. It slanted even more. A high volume of water suddenly rushed from behind the berserk lady. She screamed as she was pushed against the gate by the force. The men stumbled._

"_So…we're leaving her?" Antonio asked quietly._

"_We have no choice." Alfred replied sadly but firmly._

"_WHAT SACRILIGE! WHAT INJUSTICE! YOU'LL SUFFER FOR THIS I SWEAR! I SWEAR!" She hollered, thrashing her head about._

_Quick as a flash, Alfred struck her head with his fist, knocking her out cold._

"_Alfred! Wha-" Arthur began, but stopped when Alfred tugged at his wrist with one hand and did the same to Antonio with the other hand. He started moving again as fast as he could go, pulling the two bewildered men along. _

"_She won't suffer the pain of drowning now. I heard that it takes about three minutes for someone to drown. That's three minutes of trashing, struggling, fighting for air, stubbornly grasping onto life as it slipped through weakened fingers, three minutes that would feel like an eternity."_

_They went quiet. The water was above their waistline._

_At last, they reached a door that would lead them to the steps to the next level. From there, they would have to make their way through more corridors to get to the upper deck._

_Antonio grabbed the circular handle with both hands to open the door, but it did not move. _

"_The door won't budge! Ah, Alfred! The pipe!"_

_Arthur looked up. It was then that he noticed that a section of the pipes overhead seemed to be spewing with water, and looked as if it were about to explode. Alfred pushed Antonio away and tried to knock the door down. When it did not work, his face paled._

"_The water pressure is too strong…" He croaked._

_Arthur felt something bump against his back. He turned his head and shrieked. _

_The corpse of a middle aged man was floating in the water, facing upwards. His glassy, soulless eyes were open, but did not see. A few sheets of wet newspaper were plastered to his chest, and a small silver cross glistened as it hung from a chain on his neck. None of the three young men knew of this, but the middle aged gentleman had actually been down in spirits, and was drinking before the collision. He had stumbled and fallen to the floor in a drunken daze. He had drowned when the water level was still rather low, and had risen along with the saltwater._

"…_Dios mio." Antonio muttered when he saw the body._

_Without warning, the section of pipe was shot from the rest of the pipe. It flew straight to Alfred's head, striking his skull hard. The man swayed before collapsing into the water. Water flooded into the corridor from the busted pipe._

"_Oh God! Oh God! Alfred!" Antonio shrieked. Both men rushed to him and held his bloodied head above the water, but his body was limp and lifeless. The ship tilted some more. A huge wave of water rushed in, temporarily submerging their heads._

"_The water's rushing in!" Antonio coughed and spluttered._

_The water rose, and rose, and rose. They were swept here and there by sloshing water as the ship tilted and shifted again, letting out an agonizing groan. Soon, their head were bobbing above the water, inches from the ceiling._

"_Toni!" Arthur gasped._

"_Arthur!" Antonio reached out to him as he treaded water. He grabbed his arm and pulled him closer. "Before I go, I want to con-" he gurgled as a wave of water came, filling his mouth, but receded again. "-fess, and I want you to forgive me before I leave this Earth." He stopped when his mouth dipped below the water level again. "I still think of Lovino. He hasn't left my heart, and it's unfair to you." He chocked a little on the salty water. "I wish he hadn't died. He was so stupid to have gotten drunk and attack you. He was so stupid to have fallen. Sometimes I even wished that you had died instead. Maybe he knew I was sleeping with someone and got drunk. This might not have happened if I hadn't cheated on him." Gurgle, splutter. "And I dragged you into my misery by using you as a substitute for him, to cure my heartache. I'm sorry for clinging on to you. You deserve so much more, because I know I don't love you as much as you love me. But I do love you. I hope that at least you'll believe me when I say that I love you, even though it can never match up to the touching, overwhelming love you give me." Tears were streaming from his green eyes. He sobbed. "Arthur…I love you."_

_Arthur was stunned. What the hell was he supposed to feel? Hurt? Betrayed? Touched? Loved? Well, perhaps not the last one. He wasn't too sure if he had ever felt loved before, after all, and was not too certain about how it was supposed to feel. _

_But what Arthur did feel heartache._ _Funny thing is, his heart was spent after what his ex-fiance did to him, and he was not even sure if he'd ever felt true love for anyone. Yet, Antonio thought that he was the one being cruel in their relationship? It was more likely that Arthur was the one who didn't love his partner as much as his partner loved him. Another thing he felt was guilt. Guilt that the atrocity he committed took this man's beloved Lovi from him. The overwhelming guilt that weighed him down like an anchor for the last two years came flooding back with full force. Lovino's face flashed through his mind again, Lovino and his fiery face, heavy with heartbreak and eyes burning with rage as he yearned for vendetta. _

_He bit his lower lip. If there was a time to lay his sins bare, it was now. Unlike the literary works he spent countless hours on, tapping away at his type writer, filling the waste basket with scrunch after scrunch of unsatisfactory work, he would not get the chance to do this over. _

"_Antonio…I have something to confess too." Antonio sniffled, tears still spilling from his eyes like never-ending water works, rivaling that of the spewing overhead pipe. He looked at Arthur._

"_I...I'm…" Arthur closed his eyes. He could not do it. He just could not._

_His fingers brushed against some blunt object in the water. It felt like a short plank. His hand closed around it. _

_He swung it at the Spaniard's head, knocking him unconscious, saving him from the pain of drowning. Fresh blood spurted from his nose and mouth upon impact. His eyes slipped shut._

"…_sorry."_

_Thoughts of hell crossed Arthur's mind as the water rose._


	9. Part 9: Realization

**Part 9: Realization**

"Ugh…ugh…" Arthur felt sick. His face was deathly pale as he hugged his stomach, back hunching as the carriage rode along on its eternal journey.

"Arthur?" Antonio said quietly, soothingly. He placed a hand on the Brit's back. "Are you unwell, mi amor?"

_Me? Unwell? UN-FUCKING-WELL? Oh, that was the understatement of the century. I think I may very well be dead, as I've just recalled my own death! But wait, that's not all! You were there too, my beloved Antonio! And don't 'mi amor' me! Shouldn't you reserve that for your beloved Lovi?_ This was what Arthur felt like yelling at Antonio. But instead, he just gave a meek reply.

"I'm…fine."

"You certainly don't look fine" Antonio's tone changed to one of seriousness.

Arthur looked out the carriage window. He saw the madwoman rattling the gates of the asylum. He heard her screeching over the atrocities committed against her. He realized that she was the woman whom he, Alfred and Antonio had abandoned, letting her drown. He felt himself shudder.

He tried to calm down, keep his cool and process his thoughts, and figure out what the bloody FUCKING HELL IS GOIN-

Shh! Shh! Steady, Arthur! Keep calm. Keep…calm…

Reason it out. Okay, as far he knew, this was what had happened. He had awoken from a nightmare he could not recall, saw a strikingly familiar looking section of pipe, disembarked from the ship, boarded the carriage, heard voices, and had the strongest sense of déjà vu. After the revelation of Alfred's identity, he recollected his death. (Or perhaps it was but the visions of a dream…? No, it was too vivid. He was absolutely certain that he had actually experienced it before.) Well, now he knew why everything seemed so familiar, for he had seen all these people in the moments before his death.

But if he was dead, why did he feel…alive? Why was he experiencing this right now? The dead could not ride home with their lovers from the dock to their cheap London apartment. And what had happened between the time of his death until now?

This morning, he had awoken from a nightmare he could not remember. But he vaguely recalled his nightmare now. It was of this. This very same experience, riding home on a carriage with Antonio, only to have hell break loose sometime after passing certain living landmarks, that is, the rats, the baker, the running boy, the orphan, lady in the asylum, and finally, the man with the newspaper. He suddenly recalled multiple different versions of this journey home…

…So…he had experienced this multiple times?

"You're scaring me." Antonio said suddenly, breaking the silence within the moving carriage.

_YES, ARTHUR KIRKLAND IS ABSOLUTELY FRIGHTENING, ANTONIO. AND WAIT TILL YOU HEAR OF THE HORRIFYING ACT HE COMMITTED TWO YEARS AGO, AS YOU LAY AWAKE IN YOUR BED, STARING AT THE CEILING, WONDERING WHAT TIME YOUR DEAR LOVINO WOULD RETURN. IF YOU THOUGHT ARTHUR KIRKLAND SCARED YOU BEFORE, JUST WAIT TILL YOU HEAR OF WHAT HE DID THAT DARK MIDSUMMER'S NIGHT. _He wanted to scream.

"Don't worry too much, love. It's nothing." He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. The worried expression only returned to his face when he turned to the window of the carriage.

He looked out at the passing street stores. His eyes widened as the sense of déjà vu returned. Yes…after he had drowned, he had…awoken? He had awoken and found himself on board the S.S. Danielle…

Except, he had not awoken from slumber into the world of the living; he had awoken from death into Hell.

Yes…he had awoken into a repetitive Hell, where he was doomed to repeat the same cycle again and again, riding the eternal carriage to the same conclusion each time. His heart thudded wildly at the sudden realization, the sudden awareness of the situation.

How many times? Oh God. Just how many times had this gone on? In how many cycles was Antonio by his side when he awoke, in how many was he nowhere to be seen? How many times did Arthur watch the boy running into a general store, how many times a candy store? How many times did the lost Italian cum Lovino-look-alike wander around aimlessly in the vicinity, how many times did he actually approach them to ask for directions? How many times did Antonio remember who Alfred was when Arthur asked, and how many times did he not remember? How many times had been like this one, where Arthur actually recollected his death, and figured out the horrifying position he was in?

But, most importantly, how many times had Arthur tried to stop it?

He looked out the window, and saw the church about fifty meters ahead. He did not have much time left. He pondered over it, trying not to let the dread of what was to come seep into his nerves and wreck his sanity, for he knew it would not change things. If he was to go mad, the course of fate would not be altered, and he would just wake up again, starting a new cycle.

A thought occurred to him. What if…he _could _break out of the cycle? What if it was not a Hell per se, but a cyclic Purgatory?

_(I want to con- *glub glub* -fess. And I want you to forgive me before I leave this Earth.)_

He heard Antonio's voice in his head. A confession? Was that what he was supposed to do?

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Right before his death, he had wanted to confess to the murder of Lovino, but had hesitated and failed. Perhaps that was the reason he was sentenced to suffer this hellish repetition in the first place; as punishment for the wicked deed he had kept secret, even to his watery grave.

Then again…would merely pleading guilty free him from punishment? He knew his crime was great, and was sure that it would take an eternity of repent before his soul could be healed.

He weighed his options. If he didn't confess, this round would end, and he would awaken in the cabin, his memory wiped clean. If he confessed, did he have anything to lose? Well, there was the remote possibility that this was all some crazy dream. He might have actually woken aboard the S.S. Danielle in the early afternoon and was currently riding home. It was still possible, for nothing unrealistic had happened as of yet. No blood had yet streamed from Antonio's face for no good reason, no pipe section had crashed through the carriage roof…. If that were the case, the revelation of his dark secret may lead to the end of his life with Antonio, which was something he could not bear. Arthur was almost fully certain that he had died, but what if…?

_Step right up, step right up, ladies and gentlemen! Have a go at this carnival game of confession! Have a shot at redeeming yourself by throwing out your deepest, evilest secrets for all to see! Pray that you be forgiven! But you only get one try, and one try only!_

The middle aged man standing in the church courtyard had a roll of newspaper under one arm. Arthur watched him as he looked up at the dark, gloomy sky. The upward movement of his head exposed his neck and the small silver cross that hung from it. This cycle was almost coming to its macabre conclusion. Arthur sighed.

Now, or never.

"Antonio…I have something to tell you…"

* * *

**A/N: Next chapter will be the final one! ^_^**


	10. Part 10: Redemption

**Part 10: Redemption**

"Lovino's death…was my fault." He met the Spaniard's olive green eyes with his own emerald ones. Antonio's eyes widened. Not that he understood what Arthur meant. He was just taken aback by the mention of Lovino.

"Arthur…we've been through this before once, do you remember?"

Arthur swallowed thickly. He hoped that Antonio did not mean that he had confessed before in one of the previous cycles, only to have absolutely no effect, or perhaps…something worse.

"About a month after he died, you looked lost, and after much coaxing, I managed to get you to tell me what was bothering you. And you told me you felt guilty that you could not save Lovino. Then I told you that everything happens for a reason, and as much as we missed him, we could do nothing. And it was most unfortunate that he had to get so drunk and hurt himself. I even told you that he was already rather upset and dejected a week prior, and he had told me that it was work-related stress. You did him no wrong."

Arthur was slightly relieved. He half-expected Antonio to cackle and transform into a demonic, monstrous being, inform him that confessing was of no use, and he would still be doomed to suffer. Yes, he felt slightly relieved, not that the task before him was made any easier by this revelation.

"No…Antonio, please, listen to me!" He was hardly able to contain his anxiety, for it was starting to drizzle, and soon the rain would pour. Arthur turned to face Antonio, grabbing his shoulders to make Antonio face him as well.

"On the night he got drunk, he came to my apartment-"

"And vented his anger out on you for no reason but lack of sober rationality-"

"No, Antonio! He did have a reason! He came to confront me for screwing around with you behind his back!" Arthur cried. Antonio's expression changed to one of shock.

"But-…how…he didn't even know-"

"He found strands of my hair and my shirt button on your bed, the one that parted from my shirt when you ripped my shirt away too violently one afternoon. Remember, Antonio?" Arthur blushed slightly and his loins stirred at the memory of that heated session in which their carelessness eventually contributed to Lovino's discovery and affirmation of their forbidden relationship. The sudden, small surge of lust through his veins at the memory disgusted him. He was disgusted with himself.

"He yelled at me, and I was taken aback by his insults, though I tried to tell myself that it was but the ramblings of a drunkard. But I was absolutely certain that every spiteful word he said to me that night came from the bottom of his heart. And I was too weak, and got hurt by the truth of his words, but then I got angry as well." Arthur was speaking rather fast now. Lightning struck somewhere not too far, illuminating the interior of the carriage with a flash of bright light.

"Oh my God…" Antonio breathed.

"We got into a scuffle, and I…well…"

"Arthur..." Antonio's olive eyes were open wide. "Please don't tell me…"

"Yes…" Arthur looked straight at him. Whether he was the real life Antonio or an illusional Antonio, it didn't matter. He was going to get the truth out. "I shoved him out of the window."

"You…" Antonio did not know what to say.

"I killed Lovino. It was my fault. I killed the love of your life, because I didn't want him to walk away from my apartment, go back to you, reconcile, move out, and have a lead happy life with you, forever after. I saw a vision of myself, letting him walk away, while I would cry myself to sleep once again, and find another relationship to ruin." Arthur's heart was pounding painfully. His head hurt. His heart hurt. He felt like crying. "It somehow always ends up like that. I've never told you this in the two to three years we were together, the fact that I have been the third party in too many relationships to remember. It was almost like an addiction; an addiction to hurt and heartbreak." Arthur felt his eyes sting as it filled up with tears. He saw Antonio's face through the blurry sheet of tears, contorted with shock, misery, and a hint of disgust.

"I killed him thinking of only myself. I killed him without thinking of him, or you. I killed him without facing any punishment or retribution." Arthur cried, voice being drowned by the crescendo of the chorusing thunder and howling wind. "It's all my wrongdoing. I'm…" He wondered if what he was about to admit was the truth. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!" At the end of that chant, he decided that it _was_ the truth. He was not only regretful for his own sake, the nightmares and guilt, but he was also genuinely regretful for causing so much pain to Antonio. And of course, to Lovino, whose young life had been taken by his own hands.

Antonio's expression of revulsion softened, but only slightly. It turned to one of mild sorrow and pain. Blood began trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"No!" Arthur screamed. He held onto Antonio again. "Please…forgive me, Antonio!" He could taste the saltiness of his tears, which streamed down his pallid cheeks freely. Liquid was beginning to stream from Antonio's eyes as well. But they were not streams of tears; they were streams of blood.

"Antonio! Please! Please! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry..."

The pipe crashed through the roof, and water began to pour into the continually moving, eternal fairytale carriage of horrors at alarming speed.

"Forgive me, please…" Arthur pleaded one more time before his lungs felt compressed, and he loosened his death grip on the Spaniard. He thrashed about, and the water level rose quickly, submerging both men; one struggling about, one limp and unmoving.

Arthur thought he saw the brunette flash a bloody smile. He thought he heard him mutter in the water.

"Arthur…I forgive you."

Arthur was engulfed in endless shadows.

* * *

Darkness.

Arthur was surrounded by darkness.

He panicked when he felt like he could not breathe. But eventually, he took in a great gasp of air, allowing the air to fill his lungs. His breathing steadied, and he calmed down. But he was still gripped with apprehension. He couldn't see a thing.

A small ray of light shone through the darkness.

He looked to its source. There, in the distance, he saw a middle-aged man and young woman. The man was reading a newspaper, and the silver cross upon his neck glinted. The lady wore her hair in a bun, which was no longer messy, but neat. And her clothes were neat, chaste, and pretty...and _dry_. Her fair hands were not grasping iron gates, but folded demurely in front of her. Her mouth was not open grotesquely, shaping anguished screams, but closed, and curved upwards in a ladylike smile.

They both looked at ease. They were at peace. The small ray of light shone brighter.

He spotted a couple; a man and woman in their thirties. It might've been his imagination, but both had certain features resembling the little girl Alfred had carried off to the lifeboats. They were holding a rag doll.

They were looking to a young man with appreciative, thankful eyes. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and a cabin boy's uniform. Arthur recognized him as Alfred. He turned to Arthur and waved at him, smiling. His lips moved, and Arthur could barely make out a "Hey, Arthur!"

Behind the cabin boy, Arthur saw Antonio.

With Lovino.

They were holding hands, fingers entwined lovingly, as lovers do. They were both smiling at him. Soft, gentle smiles. Antonio's was warm and radiant. Lovino's was small and forgiving. Their eyes shone with newfound hope, a second chance to experience each other's embrace, and to start anew with Arthur, to start right. To have a sincere friendship with him, free of wicked vices, secrecy and betrayal.

Arthur felt no sense of jealousy. He felt…glad, for them, and himself. And another feeling…he felt…happy?

It was like a small warmth, flickering in his heart like a flame. Soon, the small flicker had ignited and spread into a comforting, tender feeling that consumed his body. It was heartening, yet somehow foreign.

…Is this Love…?

He walked towards the light.

**Fin.**

* * *

**A/N: I got the concept "Hell is repetition" from Stephen King's "That feeling, you can only say what it is in French". It's an uber cool short story. Check it out! :3**

** I feel obliged to apologize for a few things. Firstly, if there are historical inaccuracies, I'm sorry *~* Haha I was probably biting off more than I can chew by setting this in 19th century London, being from the 21st century, having hardly ever read/watch any 19th century history related stories/documentaries, and living halfway across the world and all that xD Secondly, I FEEL SO WEIRD ATTEMPTING TO WRITE ROMANTIC SCENES, KAY, SO I'M SORRY IF SOME SCENES ARE TOO AWKWARD. DX Thirdly, this was originally supposed to be a oneshot with a sad ending (well, the ending was kinda sad. Arthur didn't end up with Toni ;_;). I DUNNO HOW IT EXTENDED TO 10 CHAPTERS. I hope its impact wasn't compromised by the slightly staggered delivery, since you couldn't read it all in one go and may have forgotten what happened previously whenever you read a new chapter. DDDDD: Lastly, there's something 'bout the ending I don't like...though I'm not sure what it is...**

**Kk that's all. Despite its weaknesses, I hoped it wasn't too bad and you at least mildly liked it ^_^ Thank you soooo much for reading. x3 *hugs you***

**REVIEW PLS. HURHUR. SHARE UR THOUGHTS. SHARING IS CARING~ **

**Disclaimers: Hetalia © Himaruya Hidekaz. "That feeling, you can only say what it is in French" © Stephen King.**


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